


A drunken confession after too many spiked hot chocolates? SIGN ME UP

by TaleWeaver



Series: I love a good holiday fic [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Jon Snow is Not a Stark, Sansa and Jon are geeky and proud!, in fact he has a very low opinon of them here, misquoting of The Beatles, no beta we die like Starks!, now for the big confession scene!, still writing by the seat of my pants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28264236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaleWeaver/pseuds/TaleWeaver
Summary: Spiked hot chocolate, a comfy couch, and Jack and Sally... what better atmosphere for a confession of love?
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: I love a good holiday fic [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2067057
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	A drunken confession after too many spiked hot chocolates? SIGN ME UP

Back at Sansa’s apartment, they settled down on Sansa’s seriously comfortable couch, with popcorn and Christmas cookies on the coffee table and the SFX Cult Christmas movie marathon on her big-screen TV. As Kevin McAllister swung paint cans at the Wet Bandits, Jon sipped on his hot chocolate (he really had to ask Sansa for the recipe, because this hot choc was _banging_ ) and contemplated just how much of a fucking wuss he was.

The woman of his freaking dreams, the friend he’d been in love with for months, all but confessed her love to him in song, like something out of those old-time musicals she liked to make him watch, and what had he done? 

He’d told her politely that she’d sung very nicely.

Maybe he got a few points for being supportive?

But seriously, had Sansa really meant it the way she’d come across? Or was she just singing the song with the proper dramatics? (He’d never heard a song performed by Mariah Carey where she _wasn’t_ being extra) Had she been secretly hoping that he’d declare his love for her in return in the middle of the pub or something? 

Because surely Sansa knew him better than that by now. When it came to ‘go big or go home’, Jon would always go home, then do something big, but only in private where he could be sure he wouldn’t turn into a fucking meme. Being the dirty-little-secret bastard of a world-famous musician tended to give you pretty severe limits on your privacy.

Jon brooded through Kevin’s reunion with his mother, and another hot chocolate.

When The Nightmare Before Christmas started, Sansa sat bolt upright and happily carolled along with ‘This is Halloween’; when it came to the final ‘eeee!’, she collapsed back onto the couch next to him, and slumped over to rest her head on his shoulder.

Maybe it was the fourth hot chocolate, maybe it was watching Sally pine for Jack on the screen, but Jon made up his mind.

“Hey, Sans? Want to hear how bad a singer I am?” he murmured.

“Sure, why not,” Sansa half-giggled, half-sighed.

Thankful that they both liked The Beatles (like anyone with half a brain), Jon cleared his throat and began.

“Listen... do you want to know a secret? Do you promise not to tell?”

Sansa nodded, smiling, and snuggled closer.

“Closer, let me whisper in your ear. Say the words I need to share... I’m in love with you.”

Sansa sat up straight, gazing earnestly at his face. “Jon! Really? Really really really?”

Jon licked his lips, and sang again, “I’ve known this secret for a month or two, nobody knows, just we two.”

Sansa threw herself at him, knocking him back onto the couch with Sansa on top of him. For one breath, two breaths, their eyes held, spellbound by each other, then Sansa lowered her lips to his.

By the time Jon’s head stopped spinning, Boogie Woogie had Santa Claus in his clutches (though Jon couldn’t have told you how long for), and he’d lost every stitch of clothing above the waist. Sansa wasn’t wearing much either.

For some reason, it seemed important to tell her this before they got naked. “Sansa? I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before.”

“It’s okay, Jon,” Sansa shrugged, one holly-green bra strap sliding down her shoulder. “We both have insecurity issues when it comes to being loved. I wasn’t ready to hear it until recently.”

Jon grimaced (this was one thing he wished they _didn’t_ have in common. Honestly, how could her family treat Sansa the way they did? Everyone who knew Sansa adored her, unless their name was Stark). “Actually, I meant down the pub earlier. You made this wonderful gesture, and I just stood there-”

“Oh, Jon, I never expected you to respond in public!” Sansa reassured him, “I needed to declare myself extravagantly, to show you I was all in before I lost my nerve. But I know how much you need privacy for important things, and I love you as you are.”

Jon laughed helplessly, and reached for Sansa’s jeans. “Seven Hells, you really are the perfect woman.”

“No such thing as a perfect woman, and if they existed they’d be boring as fuck,” Sansa said matter-of-factly as she wrestled with his belt buckle. “I’d rather be perfect for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Jon's singing isn't as bad as he thinks... I'm basing this on a friend of mine, who absolutely kills Motorhead's 'Ace of Spades', but can't carry a ballad in a bucket.  
> And yes, Jon deliberately corrupted The Beatles lyrics for his confession. I warned you in the tags, so no complaining now.


End file.
